


i saw the devil

by thanatopis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Demons, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 02:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6102265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanatopis/pseuds/thanatopis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa summons Ushijima, a demon who comes with a price Oikawa is willing to pay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i saw the devil

Ushijima knows before it happens that he has been summoned.

There’s always that electric charge that goes through the air and the metallic taste of blood that ghosts over his own tongue. Not his own of course, but of some human either desperate or dumb enough to think that a bit of their blood is a good enough payment for his services.

Ushijima hasn’t been summoned in a very long time.

The humans these days don’t quite tend to believe in the occult—a shame really, making it especially all the more devastating for their delicate sensibilities when Ushijima and others like him make their presences known in the human world.

He’s curious, he has to admit. Ushijima hasn’t dealt with a human in decades. He finds them fascinating, like how an individual might find a snake playing with its prey before swallowing it whole fascinating: morbid, exciting, with an absentminded acknowledgement that if he wanted, Ushijima could tear that snake apart and take what the animal had thought was rightly theirs.

Ushijima doesn’t resist the pull into the human world when he feels it like heat searing into every inch of his body, destroying it from the inside out only to be made anew.

Ushijima blandly wonders what the human is like, wonders what it wants, ponders whether or not if he’ll feel generous enough to grant the wish the human will ask of him.

A part of Ushijima hopes that this human goes to church, or seeks some kind of religious venue where demons are abhorred. Ushijima hopes that the human is dependent on it so when Ushijima demands a price for his services so morally questioning, they’ll crack like a skull under the weight of his foot. The morally upstanding ones are always the most satisfying to break. Their hypocrisy like a plague.

When the agony of the heat tearing him apart reaches its peak, Ushijima smiles a mad thing, an expression speculated to be something of a bad omen.

* * *

 

Oikawa coughs up the equivalent of his right lung as he lays sprawled out on his back.

The heat inside his small bedroom is _insane_. His thin t-shirt sticks to the skin of his back and the ends of his hair curl like how it does when he gets out of the shower. The steam obstructs his view and makes it hard to breathe, it hurts every time he inhales, like his esophagus threatens to shrivel up and crumble into ashes each time he takes a breath.

Oikawa’s breath comes fast and he does his best to control it, remembering those mantras he taught himself in middle school when panic attacks had been a common occurrence.

Oikawa squints, trying his best to see into the area of the steam where the great grayish white billows are thicker and denser, and almost has a heart attack when he sees a silhouette of a figure. Oikawa blinks furiously, wondering if his eyes are playing tricks on him because the figure almost looks… _human_ except for the protrusions coming out of its head that very much aren’t.

“Oh, god,” Oikawa says under his breath, eyes wide as the steam eventually begins to clear and details become finer.

There’s a deep, unnatural humming sound that makes the very hairs on Oikawa’s body stand up on end, and he’s shaking, sprawled out on the floor, despite the overwhelming heat of the room. Whether it’s from fright or excitement, Oikawa can’t quite tell the difference yet.

All he knows is that whatever he did, it fucking _worked_.

This last resort of an option actually _worked_. He wants to laugh suddenly, but his mouth doesn’t respond properly, so the sound comes out instead as an awkward garble of noise.

Oikawa notices almost belatedly that the demon—spirit—whatever the hell the thing happens to be—is very much naked, with a skin complexion that reminds Oikawa of storm clouds heavy with rain, threatening to fall at any moment. Oikawa takes a moment to gape and pinches himself when he’s still not quite convinced that he isn’t dreaming.

He startles when the action earns him a laugh, throaty and resonating through the small room, and it’s strange how the sound distorts, like he’s hearing it in his head instead of out loud.

“Not quite God, but close enough for you I suppose.”

Oikawa gulps, working up the courage to look the demon in the eye and not cower. Oikawa can feel the weight of eyes on him, like they’re staring into his very soul and seeing everything he’s ever done and will ever do. He doesn’t know where the courage comes from, but he manages to find it, steeling his chin as he looks the demon in its eyes. Oikawa doesn’t know why he’s surprised to find that the demon has no irises where the pupils should be. Looking into the black obsidian of those eyes is like stepping close to the edge of an abyss and hoping that nothing springs out at you from the darkness to pull you in. Oikawa only takes a quick, introspective look before averting his gaze elsewhere towards the side.

Something instinctually tells him not to stare into those eyes for longer than necessary—that they could lead him to his ruin.

Then why does he feel positively ruined already?

Oikawa’s eyes roam over the broad chest of the demon, intrigued by the raised, almost decretive swirl of lines that run over every inch of him, tribal like in their intricacy. Before he even knows it, Oikawa is looking for the origin of all those lines, running his eyes slowly over every inch, determined.

If the demon minds it, he doesn’t say anything. There’s an immense feeling of amusement and intrigue coming off of the demon, as if he finds Oikawa… _interesting_ because of his child-like curiosity.

“You’re taking this better than expected,” The voice is deep and husky, the undertone of it like burning embers or second hand smoke, and Oikawa gasps because he realizes then that what he had heard the demon speak before _was_ in his head. Hearing it out loud is…well, it’s an experience on its own.

His lashes flutter and his mouth parts on a quiet _oh_ , because having the demon’s sole attention on him is a daunting thing, but not completely unwelcomed. Oikawa belatedly realizes he’s still sprawled out on the floor on his butt in an indignant heap, no doubt gawking, which is never cool, otherworldly or not.

Clearing his throat, Oikawa rolls his shoulders, pushing them back, feigning a confidence he doesn’t quite feel. His skin feels electric, like the undercurrent buzz of a livewire. He’s aware of every movement his body makes and is utterly, totally aware of the body opposite his own, the heat that sparks off it, the invisible magnetic pull that makes Oikawa want to crawl closer instead of away.

“I uh,” Oikawa unsteadily begins, a manic laugh ushering from his lips a second later, because he’s still not sure whether or not this is actually happening. The demon tilts his head slowly, waiting. Oikawa’s surprised that the ram-like horns on either side of his head don’t unbalance him. They seem heavy.

“I didn’t actually think this would work…Where did you—where did you even _come_ from?” He’s not expecting an answer, just thinking out loud about a question that’s been plaguing his mind since an explosion of steam and heat knocked Oikawa on his back. The cut on his finger barely stings anymore.

“Hell,” The demon says, smiles slow and predator like understanding the irony, and making Oikawa shiver in the process.

Oikawa snorts, rolling his eyes. “Well, obviously.”

He doesn’t know how he does it, but on shaky knees Oikawa manages to stand up on his own two feet without falling back onto the ground in an unglorified heap. Oikawa isn’t small by any means, but the demon towers over him. He levels his determined gaze on the demon, squaring his hands on his hips.

“So,” Oikawa drawls, looking the demon up and down. If his eyes linger over the impressively sized flaccid cock that hangs between his legs around a dark tuff of hair, Oikawa doesn’t acknowledge it. There’s something about the prolonged silence in his pause that alerts Oikawa that he knows the demon has caught him staring. Oikawa’s body betrays him with a flush, ears growing hot as his eyes flicker up to that angular, eccentric face, catching a quirk to the corner of his mouth that makes Oikawa tear is gaze away, heart racketing inside the cavity of his chest.  

“How exactly does this work?”

The demon blinks, sighing deep as he turns his head and takes a quick look outside of the window. Oikawa’s thankful his bedroom is on the second floor and that both his neighbors have first floor houses.

“Straight to business then?” The demon asks, looking vaguely amused as he turns back to Oikawa. Oikawa doesn’t jump when the demon steps closer, resists the urge to move back due to something that doesn’t quite wholly resemble fear. Wisely or not, Oikawa stands his ground, body tingling, like his skin wants to fall right off.

He swallows hard when the demon is close enough for his body heat to penetrate through Oikawa’s clothes. The demon smells like nothing of this Earth—there is a hint of ash, scented like a blown out match and a hint of amber. The smell makes Oikawa dizzy, eyes lidding, breath coming shallow. He feels too hot suddenly in his cotton shirt.

It takes a few tries, the inside of his mouth sandpaper dry, but he manages to weakly say, “What else is there?”

The demon steps closer and Oikawa gasps when his back hits the wall.

When did—when did he even move?

Wide brown eyes stare up at that beautiful face that seems almost cruel in it’s perfect symmetry, looking into those eyes that ensnare him despite his previous misgivings. He can’t look away. Doesn’t dare.

The demon keeps him fixed, utterly enamored, and oh so still. Or maybe that’s Oikawa’s doing…

“You desire the kinds of carnal pleasures only male flesh can bring,” The demon begins thoughtfully light, and Oikawa wonders if he’s heard right. “You desire it, and yet you’re ashamed by how much you do.”

Oikawa’s gapes, swears he swallows his own goddamn tongue, because he’s never really acknowledged his sexuality, never had to consider why his gaze lingered longer over broad, flat chests and muscular thighs with wiry hair, instead of delicate curves and smooth lines. Oikawa has never blatantly admitted it to himself what he is, and hearing someone else affirm those insecurities greatly unnerves him.

“Wha—how did you even know that?” Oikawa breathes, shaky.

The demon hums, looking all too pleased with himself.

“All in due time…” The demon trails off softly, stepping back, and finally giving Oikawa enough room to breathe easy. The snare he had found himself in by looking into the demon’s eyes feels like it recedes like a beach tide, the foreign feeling not as overwhelming. It doesn’t make Oikawa want to do and say things he’s never, _ever_ dared.

Oikawa feels like he’s losing control and fast, falling at a nose dive.

“Why have you called upon me? What is it that you wish?”

Oikawa gains some confidence back at being asked—at reaffirming his original plan and why he summoned a demon into his bedroom in the first place. Oikawa has a goal, one he needs this demon for, and he will do just about anything to achieve it. Oikawa’s expression turns dark for a moment, thinking about his rival Kageyama Tobio, that pesky little fly that no matter how hard Oikawa tries to swat down, his troublesome former kouhai always finds a way to evade and dodge Oikawa’s attempts to hinder him.

If Oikawa can’t do the necessary himself, then he’ll make someone else. All that matters is that Tobio needs to be taken care of, put back in his rightful place: under Oikawa, so that Tobio can watch him grow so spectacularly while hidden away in his own shadow. A righteous sort of punishment.

“I need you to hurt someone— _bad_.” Oikawa says it simply, calmly, looking up at the demon determinedly to show how serious he is and how much he needs this to happen. That he’s willing to pay any price to become the best volleyball player the world has ever seen. 

The demon appears a bit surprised for a moment, and Oikawa doesn’t know why that would be. He is a demon after all. Surely what Oikawa is asking for is child’s play for a creature of hell. Oikawa watches as those handsomely severe features school themselves back into a cool, aloof neutral expression. The demon’s brow arches, as if amused by this request.

“Oh? You want someone to hurt? Continue.”

Oikawa takes a breath, feeling the accompanying anger rise within him whenever his thoughts turn to his former middle school underclassman. Oikawa sneers, the pull of muscle making his angelic face appear grotesque and ugly for that short moment.  

“His name is Kageyama Tobio,” Oikawa spits.

“And he’s always chasing at my heels trying to surpass me. He is infuriating and I _loathe_ him—not hate—that’s too simple a word for what I feel for that shitty brat. I need to see him _crushed_ , I need to show him who is better, who worked harder, and who slaved away until their whole body hurt. I want him to crawl in the mud and never leave it.”

Oikawa’s eyes are flat, staring at nothing as he imagines all the ways Kageyama Tobio could disappear from this world, grateful for each and every one. But that would be too easy. Too simple…

“Anyone that challenges me must _go_ ,” Oikawa mutters under his breath, not realizing he said his thought out loud until he hears the demon’s throaty chuckle. Oikawa jumps, shivering at the sound and how pleasantly it fills his ears. The demon is close.

“Such bloodlust, and all for a simple game…” The demon says, oddly perplexed, but not condescending. Oikawa shrugs, eyes flickering away shyly.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Oikawa says it quietly, but then raises his voice to add: “And you don’t have too, all you have to do is what you’re told, and I’ll give you whatever you want in return.”

The demon hums, dragging his gaze over Oikawa’s body in a quick, but very much noticed sweep. Oikawa feels that dizzying heat descend over him again, breath hitching like he can’t get in enough air, and with a rising horror, Oikawa is suddenly re-aware that that the demon is still stark naked and pressing closer to crowd Oikawa against the wall.

His palms press flat against the cool surface, a small comfort for all the alarms going off in his head.

“Is this—” Oikawa begins uncertainly, not sure where he’s going with this. “Is… _this_ what you want in exchange?” It wouldn’t surprise Oikawa if the demon wanted to ravish him. Blood and human sacrifice were often mentioned when researching the occult, so Oikawa wouldn’t be surprised about sex. Unadmitted to even himself, Oikawa greatly anticipates the demon’s answer and he’s not sure why. His skin feels hot. The very hairs standing up on end, Oikawa swears, give off charges.

He feels his breath speed up and deepen, waiting, body tingling. He shifts on his feet, unknowingly trying to press closer to that skin that looks like burnt nickel.

The demon smiles, slow and predator like, sensing, and a thrill shoots up through Oikawa’s spine at the glimpse of his canines, attractively sharp and white. He wants to touch the ends of them and feel that sting against his pierceable skin.

The demon chuckles, “The idea of it excites you. Your mind tries to deny it at every turn, but it remains true.” The demon looks thoughtful for a moment. “You deny yourself so much...”

Oikawa gulps, unsure, jumping slightly when a thigh finds itself between his legs, pinning him to the spot. His face feels like it’s on fire, like his whole body is just going to combust into flames at any moment.

Oikawa tries to snort, but the sound comes out weak, dying half way inside his throat before it’s out of his mouth.

He laughs shakily, trying to cover up his nervousness as those bottomless eyes pierce right into his very soul, keeping him stuck in place more than the muscular thigh between his legs. His heart thumps painfully, the sound audible in his ears, drowning his frantic thoughts.

“What are you trying to say?”

The demon leans in closer, expression stoic and unreadable. His warm breath fans over Oikawa’s cheek and Oikawa gasps quietly when lips brush against his cheekbone, dragging lightly towards his ear, and making Oikawa involuntarily twitch at the feather light sensation. His breath comes quick, and not out of fear, he realizes with growing mortification.

“I’m saying,” The demon begins, low and sure, pressing his body flush to Oikawa’s as his lips brush the lobe of his ear. Oikawa tries not to whimper, biting harshly at his bottom lip as heat sears into him from that point of contact.

“This would be a good way to start our… _partnership_ , if you will.”

Oikawa can’t help but laugh at how the word ‘partnership’ falls off the demon’s tongue, like he was pressured and couldn’t find a better suited word for his tastes. The humor Oikawa finds in it soothes him somewhat, enough to where he finds he’s not on the verge of hyperventilating anymore. He sighs, wistful, pressing into the demon’s chest, testing the weight, oddly pleased when the demon doesn’t budge. Oikawa thinks that he should be scared, but he isn’t.

“Our partnership?” Oikawa asks, confused. The demon eases back, looks at him with that stoically blank expression.

He hums an affirmative, “You want to be the best not just in Japan, yes? There are a lot of enemies to defeat then, correct?”

Oikawa blinks at him, once, twice, before he starts giggling, almost madly because of what the demon is trying to propose. It’s what he’s wanted—always wanted—and it’s a possibility now because of this demon. Oikawa realizes he doesn’t even know his name.

“You’ll help me?” Oikawa asks, flabbergasted, oddly flustered.

The demon smiles, slow and almost sweet.

“Of course,” He says.

It’s ominous but Oikawa doesn’t care. He’s greedy and wanting, visions of him successful and happy dancing in his head. Oikawa grabs onto the demon’s biceps, digging his nails in over warm, raised skin and clutching at him, as if the demon will disappear along with his promises if Oikawa doesn’t grab hold. Oikawa looks up at him, eyes bright, mouth parted invitingly as he licks at his lips.

Oikawa hesitates before he presses his lips against the demon’s, a shock running up his spine as those lips press back and move softly over his mouth, lulling Oikawa into following his lead as the kiss becomes more demanding and eager. He’s never kissed anyone like this before, like he’ll die if he stops. He feels out of control, like his skeleton his going to jump out of his body at any second at how possessive and _perfect_ the demon is kissing him.

The tongue that pushes into his mouth makes Oikawa weak in the knees. He moans around the intrusion, utterly helpless and loving it, clutching desperately at the demon’s shoulders, trying to hold himself up. Oikawa sobs in relief when that thigh in-between his legs presses harder against him, and the demon’s hand settles on his hip, fingers sliding under the hem of his shirt, finding warm skin to caress over.

Oikawa breaks away with a gasp, feeling like he’s drowning in every way he knows. He tips his head back against the wall, gasping down breaths and the demon chuckles, kissing and sucking at his neck.

“I’ve never—”

Oikawa doesn’t know if he wants to say ‘I’ve never done this before,’ or ‘I’ve never felt this way before,’ but the demon seems to understand by the razor sharp smile pressing against the underside of his jaw. It jumps starts Oikawa’s heart.

“It is alright,” He begins, soft and soothing. “When we are done, you’ll want nothing more than my hands on you. I’ll make you feel like you could conquer worlds while I’m deep inside, filling you in ways you’ve never been filled, making you delirious with how good I can make you feel.”

Oikawa moans as the words settle deep into his gut, making him positively ache.

“I-I want that,” Oikawa admits shakily. He doesn’t just want it—he aches for it—he’d beg if the demon wanted him too, not ashamed in the slightest.

The demon smiles close lipped, pleased by his honesty.

“I know.”

They stare at each other, for seconds, minuets, Oikawa isn’t quite sure. He feels something inside himself shift, knowing that he’ll never be able place it back the way it was before—he wouldn’t want too. Oikawa welcomes this conscious shift, feels powerful and in control for the first time in his life, and it feels like he can do this and come out on the other side unscathed.

“I don’t even know your name,” Oikawa breathes, dismayed that he doesn’t know this simple knowledge. “Tell me.”

The demon gives him a cryptic smile, and he backs away from Oikawa a bit, straightening his shoulders.

“Ushijima, call me that.”

Oikawa nods, awed and enamored. His fingers trace up the raised lines running all over Ushijima’s body, Oikawa follows them up to Ushijima’s shoulders, brushing over stark collarbones and the tendons of his neck. His skin is impossibly warm, Oikawa’s sweating just being this close, the demon is like a furnace.

It’s fitting for where he originates.

Oikawa almost chuckles at the fleeting thought.

“Ushijima,” He tests the name out, the word falling off his lips pleasantly, shivering out of him.

The demon’s eyes narrow, satisfied, nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath. He looks like the definition of the word devious and Oikawa wants so bad his cock aches.

Oikawa nudges at Ushijima’s mouth with his, making small desperate sounds against his lips because he wants to be kissed again, wants to be devoured. He feels the sharp curve of a smile before Ushijima gives into him, mouth hot and wet.

He tastes like nothing else in the world.

Several long minutes later and Oikawa finds himself bare, spread out on the floor resembling a sacrifice with his arms whimsically above his head, legs open, preening at the attention as Ushijima’s eyes devour him. Oikawa is smitten with their differential skin colors, how they complement each other, light against dark. He brushes his fingers along Ushijima’s bicep, hypnotized by the sight of it.

Ushijima situates between his thighs, gradually leaning his weight down, crowding Oikawa in a way he didn’t know he craved, liking the feeling of being held down, of not being able to move freely.

He tries to test that weight and delights when it holds. Ushijima chuckles knowingly, understanding his need.

“So eager…” Ushijima mutters in that deep baritone, kissing at the underside of Oikawa’s jaw, light and tickling, making Oikawa twitch.

Oikawa blinks dazedly up at the ceiling, running his hands over broad shoulders, feeling muscles shift like water under his palms.

“You’re so gentle,” Oikawa begins, shocked by the soft kisses and the softer hands, not expecting to be treated so daintily by something so unworldly, not knowing why he’s mildly disappointed by it.

“You do not like it,” It’s not a question. Ushijima eases up on his hands, taking in Oikawa’s nervous smile. He cocks his head, a slow predator-like tilt, seeing something on Oikawa’s face that makes him hesitate for a moment.

“I—” Oikawa starts, unnerved, until Ushijima’s fingers are prodding at his hole, not quite breaching, but screwing in around the tight furl of muscle, making Oikawa gasp. He whines a loud, long thing, incredibly sensitive where Ushijima teases him with the pad of his thumb. He arches into it readily, dragging his feet up on the carpet so he can angle his hips up into that touch.

“ _Oh_ ,” Is all Oikawa can manage to get out, throwing his head back and basking in the new sensations of having someone touch him so intimately with the full intention of taking him.

“If you have something to ease the ache, I would suggest fetching it— _quickly_.” Oikawa blinks, dumbfounded, staring up at Ushijima confused before he gets what the demon means. He gestures vaguely under his bed at the non-descript bottle of unscented lotion, watered down a bit by adding a few teaspoons of tap water, enough to make it manageable.

“Under there,” Oikawa says, pointing, and Ushijima stretches, long powerful limbs accommodating the far reach and Oikawa can’t help but stare. Ushijima inspects the bottle for a quick moment before giving it a good shake, eyes landing back on Oikawa with a dark anticipatory look.

“Have you ever taken anything bigger than your fingers?” Ushijima asks, calmly uncapping the bottle and squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers. He wastes no time, prodding and pushing, listening to Oikawa’s body as it relents and allows one digit inside. Ushijima’s fingers feel impossibly bigger than his own when he does this, reaches depths that his own fingers can’t touch.

Oikawa sighs, blinking furiously, “You know I haven’t…” He says, mildly embarrassed by the confession, at the experience Ushijima no doubt has in comparison to his own feverish fumblings at night alone in his bed.

Ushijima smirks, the fringe of his bangs hanging in front of his eyes, cutting strikingly along his face..

“Yes, but hearing you say it is satisfying,” A mischievous gleam shines in those void-like eyes, making Oikawa gasp as a second finger is added and crooked. “I have a particular fondness for virgins.”

_And defiling them…_

Oikawa fills in, hearing the unsaid implication of Ushijima’s words and flushing all the way down from his roots to his shoulders.

“P-pervert,” Oikawa doesn’t mean to stutter, but Ushijima prods something inside him that has his back arching and toes curling, breath coming quick and heavy. Oikawa whines when Ushijima realizes he’s found the desired spot, pressing and rubbing over the gland in a maddening way that has Oikawa writhing and crying out, grasping at anything he can to keep himself afloat as Ushijima breaks him apart piece by piece.

Ushijima’s fingers pivot fast and smoothly in and out of Oikawa’s hole. Wet, lewd sounds ushering between their bodies as the demon fingers Oikawa sloppy, getting him loose and wet for something bigger.

“Not quite the same, is it?” Ushijima asks, tone falsely conversational. “You can never get the angle quite right can you? Always having to resort to stroking your cock to get off, feeling cheated afterwards because you want to understand what it’s like…” He trails off, licking at his lips in a slow, deliberate pass. “I’ll show you.”

Oikawa can’t help but snort, skeptical brow rising.

“Oh, but of course you will. You’re nothing if not generous, oh great demon of hell.”

Ushijima chuckles, as if amused by Oikawa’s insolence. There’s something melodic about the sound, how it lifts and settles warm in the pit of Oikawa’s stomach.

Ushijima hums.

“Keep that mouth about you, I enjoy it. I imagine I’ll enjoy it even more when you can’t keep quiet—babbling non-sense about my cock and how good it fucks you.”

A sharp tingle of anticipation races up Oikawa’s spine at that. He’s not adverse in the slightest at being made to babble.

Oikawa swallows hard, trying to dislodge the golf ball sized lump in his throat. He coughs, trying to clear his throat, mouth suddenly dry.

“Well,” Oikawa pauses, loss for words, flustered. “Prove your prowess and I’ll talk your goddamn head off.” Where he finds the confidence to say such a thing, Oikawa doesn’t know. Maybe it’s how Ushijima looks at him, as if he’s the one to be revered and awed. He feels like he could overcome anything, do anything, with that stare trained on him.

Ushijima nods his head at that, accepting with a clear, determined expression as he reacquaints himself with the task at hand. Those fingers inside Oikawa start moving again and before long, Ushijima pulls them out, leaving Oikawa whimpering at their loss, but feeling readily prepared and pleasantly stretched out. He knows what comes next when Ushijima rises over him and situates solidly between his thighs, but even so—the very _size_ of Ushijima…

Oikawa cranes his neck as best he can, looking down between their bodies where Ushijima’s cock hangs heavy and hard, leaking at bit at the tip. It’s the biggest cock Oikawa’s ever seen and he’s both hungry and hesitant for it, knowing that in a moment, it will be inside him, stirring him up…

“You’re worried it won’t fit all the way in,” Ushijima murmurs, amused, lips inches from Oikawa’s own, fanning hot breath all over his face. Oikawa pants, biting at his bottom lip, wanting for Ushijima to put it in him already before his anxiety makes him change his mind. Thoughts stop all together when the blunt, hot cockhead of Ushijima’s dick presses against the flared pucker of Oikawa’s hole, kissing it messy as Ushijima’s smears his pre-come up and down his crack in a slow, teasing pace.

“Oh fuck,” Oikawa hisses, jerking involuntarily into the touch. It burns him.

He grabs at the underside of his knees, spreading his legs wide until he feels the stretch in the tendons of his thighs, somehow knowing that humiliating himself in such a pose would please Ushijima. Oikawa is right in his assumption, the look of hunger that passes over Ushijima’s face makes his breath catch, coming out in an erratic, high pitched stutter.

“Hmm, you are so much more than what I could have ever expected…”

And then he’s pushing in, carving his shape into Oikawa and he can’t breathe.

It’s overwhelming, and his lashes flutter in a maddening rush as a low, drawn out groan files out between his parted lips. Oikawa arching into it, pushing his hips up despite the quick bursts of pain that magically seem to dissipate as soon as he feels them. Ushijima’s hands replace his own at his knees, allowing for Oikawa to cling to Ushijima’s sides, nails digging in, hoping to leave a mark as big as the one Ushijima tears into him.

“You— _uhh_ —fuck, you’re—”

Already, he can’t tie a coherent sentence together. Ushijima looks smug about it, working the last of his cock into Oikawa’s body and grinding deep, hips showing only a sliver of the power that they hold, a preview of how thoroughly and hard he’s going to pound into Oikawa.

Ushijima’s lips brush indulgently across his cheek, tongue peeking out to lick at the saltiness of his skin. There’s something so animalistic about the act, something so base, and it makes Oikawa moan.

It transforms into a shout when Ushijima snaps his hips, hitting that spot inside Oikawa that has his dick jolting, leaking an obscene amount onto his belly that is almost embarrassing. They jostle on the floor, the carpet too short for Oikawa to grab a sure grip as each thrust shucks him along the floor.

Oikawa throws his head back, gasping, squeezing his eyes shut as sensation becomes him. It feels like nothing he’s ever felt—only a dream could be this good, and Oikawa wonders for a moment if that’s what this is: a dream. He decides only a second later that there is no way this can be a dream. Oikawa just knows. Everything is too intense, too real, and Ushijima’s weight pinning him down is something that is concrete. It’s a feeling he focuses on, that weight, when Ushijima shows no signs of slowing or gentling his thrusts, driving Oikawa out of his mind.

Oikawa comes quickly. With his prostate being battered by that thick cockhead over and over again, it’s easy too. Oikawa shouts in rapture as Ushijima fucks the come out of him, watching in awe after the first wave, how his dick spurts and continues to do so with each hard, punishing thrust. He expects Ushijima to come too, but he doesn’t.

Oikawa sputters a wet, disbelieving sound that is completely unrecognizable when he realizes that Ushijima intends to _utterly_ ruin him.

Oikawa gladly lets him.

**Author's Note:**

> Oikawa and Ushijima lived happily ever after, while of course ruining people's lives and having great sex.


End file.
